Hi everyone, I want to add another voice here. My friend Mark worked for decades outside as a carpenter in Maine, including during the often-bitter winters. He and Deb now spend their winters in FL. He says he's thought about spending a winter here now, but the winter he once loved doesn't exist. He beautifully articulates much of what I was after with this essay:
“What’s odd is knowing that it’ll never happen, not because I’m not around, but because winter isn’t… that “good stuff” is gone. Winter as I knew it, the winter I spent so many days and months and years with as an adult, the winter that worked its way into my body, mind and spirit, that occupied my soul from late November when it arrived with its challenge, until it moved on in early April every year… releasing me, taking its leave to my relief… departing with a warning whisper of “see you next year,” those winters are gone. As are the winters of my childhood, judging by the snow-filled slides my father and I have been going through. So it’s easier to be away from here during those months somehow. Because here may still be here… but it’s a different here now. I’m not around as much, and neither is winter.”
Jason, this is such beautiful writing. Every sentence is a little poem unto itself. And your photos hold the same poetic vision. I have been trying to write my own ode to the loss of winter here on the coast of Maine and have come up with only cliches. Absence as you so beautifully demonstrate is filled with abundance. I am going to print this essay out and read it slowly and treasure it.
Thank you for such beautiful writing (and photos) highlighting the value of winter. Here in the South of England we have barely had any frost this winter let alone snow.
Thank you for sharing what many of us are experiencing; the death of winter. Lament is something we need to do to help us take action. Having grown up in NE Ohio in the 1970s, our winters were impressive. By January, my yard would be pockmarked with little snow caves I would carve out and crawl into from the snow drift in the back yard or the mounds of snow from shoveling the driveway. Making two 5-6 foot high snowpeople for the front-yard didn't even put a dent in all the snow available to me. I learned to ice skate on the ponds that 2 neighbors had. Neighborhood kids would spend the entire winter school break on those ponds and President's Day would likely be our last weekend on it safely. One of those ponds is now covered over with a house on it and I was told the other just is never safe to go out onto. I've lived in the south for many years now and I look forward to going to OH to see family in the winter; but be it Thanksgiving or Christmas, we never get lucky enough to see snow stick to the ground and stay there. My son, Gen. Z, will never experience what I was so blessed to play in as a child. Forgive us for what we have done and what we have failed to do.
I grew up in the south, without anything close to what I would call a "true" winter. I now live in Wyoming, and I'm about to head to Argentina for the next 9 months, giving me 3 winters back to back. Many people have asked me if I'm prepared for that and I always tell them that I'm excited about it. I've fallen in love with winter, with snow, with all of the shapes that water can take in freezing temperatures. I have yet to get bored of it.
I think I also just love the change of the seasons. I often joke that I grew up with "summer" and "summer light," and I find deep joy in the transition from one season to the next, regardless of which season it is. Variety is the spice of life after all.
Winter may be the "hard" season, but with the caveat of the comforts of modern life (i.e. a warm and cozy house to come back to), it might just be my favorite.
Thank you for this gorgeous and necessary work of love. I’m glad to have found you here! (Thanks to a note that came up, posted by another reader.) I look forward to reading more.
I have always loved the winter. Here in southeast Michigan this year, we only had a few disconnected weeks of cold and snow. It felt more like perpetual November with a little bit of balmy thrown in.
Thank you for reminding us of all that winter holds. It is in our collective memory, if we can sustain it, that we will be driven to alter our habits which conflict with natural systems.
Hi everyone, I want to add another voice here. My friend Mark worked for decades outside as a carpenter in Maine, including during the often-bitter winters. He and Deb now spend their winters in FL. He says he's thought about spending a winter here now, but the winter he once loved doesn't exist. He beautifully articulates much of what I was after with this essay:
“What’s odd is knowing that it’ll never happen, not because I’m not around, but because winter isn’t… that “good stuff” is gone. Winter as I knew it, the winter I spent so many days and months and years with as an adult, the winter that worked its way into my body, mind and spirit, that occupied my soul from late November when it arrived with its challenge, until it moved on in early April every year… releasing me, taking its leave to my relief… departing with a warning whisper of “see you next year,” those winters are gone. As are the winters of my childhood, judging by the snow-filled slides my father and I have been going through. So it’s easier to be away from here during those months somehow. Because here may still be here… but it’s a different here now. I’m not around as much, and neither is winter.”
Jason, this is such beautiful writing. Every sentence is a little poem unto itself. And your photos hold the same poetic vision. I have been trying to write my own ode to the loss of winter here on the coast of Maine and have come up with only cliches. Absence as you so beautifully demonstrate is filled with abundance. I am going to print this essay out and read it slowly and treasure it.
Thank you for such beautiful writing (and photos) highlighting the value of winter. Here in the South of England we have barely had any frost this winter let alone snow.
Thank you for sharing what many of us are experiencing; the death of winter. Lament is something we need to do to help us take action. Having grown up in NE Ohio in the 1970s, our winters were impressive. By January, my yard would be pockmarked with little snow caves I would carve out and crawl into from the snow drift in the back yard or the mounds of snow from shoveling the driveway. Making two 5-6 foot high snowpeople for the front-yard didn't even put a dent in all the snow available to me. I learned to ice skate on the ponds that 2 neighbors had. Neighborhood kids would spend the entire winter school break on those ponds and President's Day would likely be our last weekend on it safely. One of those ponds is now covered over with a house on it and I was told the other just is never safe to go out onto. I've lived in the south for many years now and I look forward to going to OH to see family in the winter; but be it Thanksgiving or Christmas, we never get lucky enough to see snow stick to the ground and stay there. My son, Gen. Z, will never experience what I was so blessed to play in as a child. Forgive us for what we have done and what we have failed to do.
I grew up in the south, without anything close to what I would call a "true" winter. I now live in Wyoming, and I'm about to head to Argentina for the next 9 months, giving me 3 winters back to back. Many people have asked me if I'm prepared for that and I always tell them that I'm excited about it. I've fallen in love with winter, with snow, with all of the shapes that water can take in freezing temperatures. I have yet to get bored of it.
I think I also just love the change of the seasons. I often joke that I grew up with "summer" and "summer light," and I find deep joy in the transition from one season to the next, regardless of which season it is. Variety is the spice of life after all.
Winter may be the "hard" season, but with the caveat of the comforts of modern life (i.e. a warm and cozy house to come back to), it might just be my favorite.
I’m so glad to know your work. This - your meditation on winter- is my favorite piece yet.
Your photographs are so beautiful Jason. 'transformation and transience' is enchanting!
Thank you for this gorgeous and necessary work of love. I’m glad to have found you here! (Thanks to a note that came up, posted by another reader.) I look forward to reading more.
I have always loved the winter. Here in southeast Michigan this year, we only had a few disconnected weeks of cold and snow. It felt more like perpetual November with a little bit of balmy thrown in.
Thank you for reminding us of all that winter holds. It is in our collective memory, if we can sustain it, that we will be driven to alter our habits which conflict with natural systems.
Jason, i'm working on a piece that begins with lines from a Jess Housty poem:
"Stories require witnesses
and the witnesses are not always
human kin."
We are fortunate that you are such an astute witness beyond the human world.
with gratitude for your work, katharine🌱
What a beautiful ode to my favorite season .
May it never turn into
a fable.